


Get Wrecked, Ghost of Human Kindness

by brassbranch



Category: South Park
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Minor Violence, read on to enjoy a gross dude getting hit in the balls a lot, this is basically vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 00:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12923673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brassbranch/pseuds/brassbranch
Summary: "He’s asked Tweek to trust in mankind again, and Tweek wants to be able to do that more than anything. But now The Ghost asks more of him, an unspoken question beneath the offer of a ride back home; he wants Tweek to trust him specifically."(A rewrite of the scene from "Child Abduction Isn't Funny," literally just done to have Tweek beat the hell out of a creep.)





	Get Wrecked, Ghost of Human Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling understandably angry about evil people who prey on kids, and also just really really wanted to write Tweek beating someone up, so here's Tweek kicking the shit out of a sick fucker.

 

-

-

 

“Then why don’t you get in the back of my van and I’ll drive you home?”

 

It’s a simple question, posed to Tweek by a man who has been, so far, nice. Strange, certainly, but nice. The Ghost of Human Kindness has indeed been kind to Tweek, gently ushering him around town and showing him signs of the good there is to be found in the world. He’s asked Tweek to trust in mankind again, and Tweek wants to be able to do that more than anything.

 

But now The Ghost asks more of him, an unspoken question beneath the offer of a ride back home; he wants Tweek to trust  _ him _ specifically.

 

And Tweek doesn’t have a reason not to, really. Despite his own fears, despite his parents’ warnings, this stranger hasn’t done anything to hurt him. He led him away from home, exactly the way Tweek has terrified a stranger might, but it was only with good intentions. He’s shown him beautiful things, and spoken calmly. Besides, he has a glowing scepter and that’s really cool.

 

The van, on the other hand…

 

“Your van?” Tweek questions, looking dubiously at the boxy vehicle on the otherwise empty street. It looks like something from a landfill that got dragged through a horror movie, its mismatched parts dinged up and rusting. Tweek can’t help but think that there shouldn’t be cargo transported in the back of that van, much less a child.

 

And having it parked here, just past the last stop on The Ghost’s tour, seems strange. Why would they walk from one end of town to the other only to come back within a few blocks of Tweek’s house,  _ then _ get in a van and drive back to where they started? Tweek is suddenly very aware of how cold his toes are; he left the house without shoes, never one to be bothered by cool weather, but the sidewalk beneath his feet seems to get colder the longer he stands still.

 

“Yes, boy,” The Ghost says cheerily, “So I can get you back in home and into bed.”

 

Tweek shivers, twitches. He says, “I’m not supposed to get in cars with strangers.”

 

He isn’t supposed to leave the house with strangers either, but that rule has already been broken.

 

The Ghost laughs, a quick little  _ oh ho ho _ , that sounds faker than a mall santa, “After all this, you still think I’m a stranger?” He winks exaggeratedly, “What did we just say about being more trusting, lad?”

 

Tweek had said that he would try, but he doesn’t want to say it again. He thinks that there’s a difference between being trusting and being careless, but The Ghost of Human Kindness probably doesn’t want to hear that, “Um,” He says, hesitating, “I know, but I- I’d rather just walk home.”

 

The Ghost reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, his grip strong and steady, and for the first time it occurs to Tweek that a ghost shouldn’t be able to touch him.

 

He steps back quickly, ducking out of the hold on his shoulder, and sees The Ghost’s consistent and contented smile drop. His expression becomes stern, disappointed, making Tweek feel as though he’s done something wrong. The Ghost reaches for him again, and though Tweek is pretty quick, he can’t duck his long arms. The same hand lands on his shoulder again, holding on tighter this time.

 

“Hey, th-that hurts-” He complains, raising his voice, and when the pressure on his shoulder only intensifies, he freezes up in fear at a realization;  _ this person doesn’t care about hurting him _ .

 

The Ghost steers him around to face the van, pushing him toward the street, “Get in the van, Tweek.” He says firmly, and for the first few seconds Tweek can’t help from stumbling where he’s directed. The Ghost is bigger than him, stronger, easily able to shove him along.

 

But Tweek doesn’t want to get in the van, doesn’t want to be pushed, doesn’t want to be around this man who is almost certainly not a ghost for even one second longer, and he digs his feet into the cold sidewalk, crying, “No!”

 

“Dammit.” The Ghost mutters, “You were so close,” And gives Tweek another push, letting of his shoulder and sending him tripping over the edge of the sidewalk.

 

Tweek yelps, throwing his hands out, expecting to land hard on slushy asphalt, but before his hands and knees can connect with the pavement, he’s caught mid-fall. The Ghost’s arm is around his midsection, knocking the wind out of him, holding him up. His toes just barely brush the curb, and then, terrifyingly, there’s only cool air beneath his feet.

 

The Ghost hoists him up under one arm like a football, moving surprisingly quick for a man in big ridiculous robes. He reaches the back of the van in a few strides and opens one of the double doors, tossing his glowing scepter inside, then moving to do the same with Tweek. Tweek catches a glance in, and though it’s dim there’s a little light on the wall above the spot that there would be a window in another car, illuminating the small space enough for him to see.

 

There’s the scepter, thrown all the way in against the wall, and a wooden crate with normal car repair stuff, and a few blankets spread out, and a thick roll of duct tape, and Tweek has seen enough terrible things on the news, in movies, to guess at what that last thing is for.

 

Just the thought of being restrained sends a sick shudder through him, and he swings his arms as much as he can, shoving and struggling against the arm circling his waist. He kicks his legs, trying to strike out at The Ghost’s knees, but falling short, only managing to knock his own ankle painfully against the van door. He shrieks, then, as loud as he can, “Let me  _ go _ !”

 

He would be impressed with how little his voice shakes, if he wasn’t so terrified.

 

The Ghost curses under his breath, awkwardly shifting his hold to avoid Tweek’s squirming as he drops him onto the blanketed floor of the van. He braces himself against the open door, blocking it with his body as he climbs halfway inside, one knee against the floor, one hand planted heavily on Tweek’s soft stomach, pinning him down.

 

Tweek meets his eyes for an instant, and for all his day to day worries over people being out to get him, he’s never looked at someone and felt so  _ sure _ that they actually wanted to kill him. The Ghost smiles down at him, not the peaceful, reassuring smile he’s worn all night, but a smug grin. He looks proud, victorious, and very quickly Tweek’s rapid thoughts turn from simply  _ I don’t want to die _ to a defiant  _ I’m not going to let him kill me _ .

 

He screams just in case anyone can hear him, and he fights. He fights the way Stan’s uncle Jimbo taught him, though his boxing gloves are on his bedroom floor at home. With bare fists he strikes out at the man restraining him, swinging hard, landing a punch anywhere he can. He catches The Ghost in the chin, the chest, the armpit, making him lose his grip long enough to scramble backward.

 

And moving backward, even though it puts him deeper into the back of the van, gives him room to square up, fists raised.

 

Shaken, furious, The Ghost hauls himself all the way into the van, robes askew as he stands up in full within the doorway. He reaches back for the handle of the door to trap them both inside, and Tweek launches himself at the man. He pounds his fists against his stomach, his thigh, and finally-

 

The Ghost wheezes in pain as Tweek’s tiny fist connects hard with his groin.

 

Tweek remembers Jimbo’s directions, shouted from just outside the boxing ring as he stared down a guy twice his height, minus one arm;  _ punch him in the balls _ .

 

It worked then and it works now, making The Ghost double over and curse. Tweek hits him again, and then again, though it hurts his knuckles, though The Ghost is grabbing wildly, blindly, for his swinging arms, his hair. It hurts more when someone else is pulling it, but the sharp pain just makes Tweek shriek again, throwing an uppercut under the man’s robe, hitting hard enough that The Ghost stumbles back, falling out of the van.

 

Tweek rushes out after him, and could, probably should, just keep running, run all the way back home to safety. But he’s so  _ angry _ , and the man who wanted to kill him is down on the pavement, groaning, and before he knows it he’s standing over him, bringing his foot down on the man’s crotch.

 

_ Now kick him in the balls _ , he remembers,  _ get him coughing up blood! _

 

Tweek gets one, two more rough kicks in before there’s a frenzy of noise and light behind him, startling him into jumping back from the dazed and groaning man on the pavement.

 

It’s a police car, sirens blaring- and another coming up fast behind it. Police officers run out into the street, guns drawn, as Tweek scrambles to put his hands in the air.

 

“Alright Johnson, give it up!” One of the cops shouts, and The Ghost of Human Kindness whines in pain.

 

The next few minutes are a blur; cops shouting and running, surrounding the man on the ground. Tweek’s parents are there, somehow, already out looking for him, and they rush to him, making sure he’s okay.

 

And- he is. He is okay. Aside from his toes being cold and scraped up and a few bruised spots on his arm, he’s okay. 

 

As the man dressed as The Ghost is being taken into custody, limping considerably, muttering curses, Tweek is picked up and carried home, safe.

 

-

-

 


End file.
